


7 Christmas Drabbles

by rev_lady_mal



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 12:30:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16912923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rev_lady_mal/pseuds/rev_lady_mal





	7 Christmas Drabbles

**Christmas Letter - Romano**

“Damn it!” Romano sputtered, “Why are these always so hard to write!” He crumpled up the piece of paper and tossed it in the direction of the overflowing wastepaper basket, surrounded by a growing pile of crumpled paper littering the floor. He pulled a fresh sheet out of the box of stationary and began to write again, scribbling a few words, scratching them out, scribbling some more, before finally giving up in frustration and added it to the pile on the floor.

Face red with embarrassment, he pulled yet another piece of paper out of the box, taking a moment to think about what he really wanted to say. “He’s not even my father! Why the hell do I bother? Bastard!” He angrily scribbled a few words onto the paper, folded it and stuffed it haphazardly into an envelope.

The table was set for dinner when he eventually found the dining room; he had to pee at one point and after searching for a bathroom with no luck, found a little-used hallway to go. The smell coming from the corridor told him at some point in the past he had been there before but damn if he could remember when. He walked up to the table and slid the envelope under Spain’s plate.

After the midnight mass, Spain arrived and sat at the head of the table for dinner. Romano eventually stumbled into the room, somehow knocking over a small table, shattering a rare irreplaceable vase and sat down as well. “Hello, Romano!” Spain said with his usual cheerfulness. “Are you happy it’s Christmas?” He asked as he served jamón on their plates.

“Whatever, I guess so,” Romano muttered, watching Spain reach for his knife and fork.

“What’s this?” Spain asked as he pulled the letter out from under his plate, looking at Romano expectantly.

“Damn it! Just read it already! It’s a Christmas tradition in Italy, you idiot!” He flustered, wishing this were over so he could eat.

“Okay okay, I’ll read it,” Spain answered, ripping open the envelope and pulling out the letter. He read over the clumsily scribbled words:

_Dear Boss:_

_I like tomatoes. Bon Natali._

_Your Henchman,  
Romano_

 

Spain stared at Romano, eyes shining with joy. “This … this is the best present you could ever give me!” He exclaimed, feeling tears make his face wet.

“What the hell? Don’t cry you bastard!” Romano shouted, then growled and stuffed a large piece of jamón into his mouth.

**Swing For The Sun! - Spain**

“Come on Romano, you have to swing higher!” Spain laughed, watching him kick his short legs awkwardly while sitting on the swing. “How will the sun know how high to climb in the sky if you don’t go higher? It will stay cold and the tomatoes won’t grow!” He shouted with mock fear as he watched Romano attempt to get the swing to go higher.

“I’m afraid of heights! What happens if I fall off? Stop trying to make me go higher damn it!” He stopped kicking his feet and sat on the swing fuming as it slowly swayed back and forth.

Spain pouted with big, sad puppy dog eyes at Romano; which only made the young protectorate’s face turn a darker shade of red. “But Romano, this is an important tradition in my country, it’s very old and goes back to before the days of the church. You have to swing as high as you can today, or the sun won’t know how high to get in the sky this summer!”

“Shit! Are you kidding me?” Romano spat out as he hopped off the swing. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of you bastard! I quit!”

“Aw Romano, don’t be like that!”

“I said I quit!” Romano shouted, and sat down on the ground scowling, angry eyes looking up at Spain. “If you think the sun has to be shown how high to climb by getting on a stupid swing then you do it!”

“Fine, I will!” Spain responded cheerfully and hopped on the swing. He began to kick his legs and quickly gained momentum, swinging higher and higher until almost level with the tree branch the swing was attached to.

“Shit! Don’t go so damn high you idiot! Ah! You’re scaring me!” Romano shouted, jumping to his feet and waving his arms. You’re too big for that swing it’s going to break damn it!”

Spain laughed and waved at Romano. “Nonsense! Have to show the sun how high to go!” He kicked his feet even more; the bough of the tree bending lower under Spain’s weight until a loud, cracking, snapping sound filled the air above him. Spain suddenly felt himself floating in the air and then hurtling back to Earth, arms and legs flailing as he watched the ground rise up to meet him. He landed face first in the dirt and lay still.

Romano watched Spain for some sign of movement. When none came he ran to him, screaming and kicking him in the side “DAMN IT SPAIN MOVE! DO SOMETHING! YOU CAN’T BE DEAD YOU CAN’T BE!” Tears rolled down his face as he sobbed over the seemingly lifeless corpse.

Slowly, Spain’s dust-covered head came up from the shallow trench created when he hit the dirt. He spit bits of debris out of his mouth and grinned. “And that’s how it’s done!” He pulled up an arm skinned raw with road rash to give Romano thumbs up.

“Asshole!” Romano retorted, pushing Spain’s head back down in  
the dirt and stomping to the house.

Spain lay there chuckling gingerly as aching, throbbing pain began permeating various parts of his body. “He does care about me.”

 

**A Taste of My Yule Log - France**

“France, where’s the Christmas tree eh?” Canada asked as he walked through the tastefully decorated house. He wandered back into the kitchen where the other country was busy fussing over bottles of wine.

France smiled at Canada, “If you want a tree, go to Germany. Here we emphasize the nativity.” He pulled out differently shaped stemware for the bottles of wine, and then pulled the cork on the red to give it adequate time to breathe before serving.

Canada looked over the different bottles of wine, wondering who was going to drink it all, and why they were different. “So … are you expecting other guests?”

Francis laughed, checking the status of the Muscadet. “No, this is a very intimate gathering for just the two of us.”

“Are we really going to drink all of this ourselves?”

Francis laughed, “Canada, there is food and wine, and then there is French food and wine. The seafood course needs the correct dry white wine, the foie gras a sweet white, the meat course has the Cote De Rhone to accompany it.”

Canada looked at the very expensive bottle of champagne, “And this?”

France smiled at Canada, a patient expression on his face. “Why, that goes with my Yule log of course.”

Canada blinked but decided to let the comment slide. He wandered into the lounge and noticed a table in the far corner covered with figurines. Curious, he walked over for a closer look. There was the traditional nativity scene, with Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus in the manger, surrounded by farm animals, shepherds, and the three wise men. Then he noticed there were other people doing work, or holding tools. “Oh, neat.” He said at first but then noticed some of the faces of the figurines began to look familiar. One of the three wise men had red eyes and Prussia’s leer; another had Spain’s friendly face and green eyes, while the third … the clear blue eyes of his host looked on with amusement. “Okay, that’s … interesting.” The shepherds looked like Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania; a child in a dress looked very much like Poland. He started looking around to see if there was a figurine that resembled him. He found Russia holding a scythe, England in the role of fishmonger; America was a blacksmith, which made Canada snort with amusement. He felt just a bit creeped out when he realized that the holy family resembled Sweden, Finland, and an almost nude Sealand. Finally, he found a figurine wearing a red coat riding on the back of a white bear.

“That’s the night watchman.” France’s voice said behind him.

Canada stood up and turned, “I was just … looking over your nativity scene. You have some unusual additions.”

“Santons are a Provençal tradition; the figurines go back to the days of the Revolution when all religious displays were banned. Dinner is served by the way.” France said, handing Canada a glass of perfectly chilled white wine.

Canada followed France into the dining room. Kumajirou stopped bringing up the rear to take a look back at the crèche. “As if I would ever let what’s his name ride me like that!”

**On the Importance of Being Frugal During Christmas - Germany**

Nothing put Germany in the mood for the holiday season more than walking through the Christkindlmarkt and picking up traditional items for celebrating the holiday at home. Humming “O Tannenbaum” to himself, he carefully checked over his list to make sure he had purchased adequate quantities of everything he needed. Only one more unchecked item on his list – visiting the bookshop to purchase books for his Christmas reading, and he could go home. He put his glasses and pen away and folded the list back up to put in his pocket. Before he could slip the paper inside, however, a hand grabbed his elbow and jerked at it harshly.

He spun around and glared at the rude person, ready to scold him for violating personal space, only to see Prussia grinning up at him. “Uhhh brother, it’s you; what do you want?” He groaned.

“West, smell that wurst they’re frying? Let's get some to eat on the way home pleeeaasssee!”

“I am making Christmas dinner when we get home Prussia.”

“But that’s hours away! I’m hungry now! Please?”

Germany glared at his older brother, sometimes he really wondered who was the responsible one here. “If you want one, go buy one. Why are you bothering me?”

Prussia’s grin didn’t change. “West … could I borrow some money?”

He couldn’t stop the scowl from coming. “Borrow some money? Do you need to borrow money to buy a wurst from a street vendor? What happened to all the money you had this morning? You shouldn’t waste money. Didn’t you take the time to carefully plan a budget and bring enough money for all the items you wanted to buy? Where is your shopping list?”

“I didn’t have a shopping list West, I … I only had one thing to buy, but it cost more than I expected.”

Another groan escaped from Germany, “And what was the one thing you had to buy? Was it essential?”

It was finally Prussia’s turn to frown. “Yes, it was essential … it was your Christmas present! It’s something I’ve wanted to buy you for a long time, it just … cost a little more than I expected!”

Germany’s expression softened when he saw the distress on his brother’s face. “I understand. Now that you mention it, those sausages do smell good.” His own smile returned when he saw Prussia’s face light back up with a grin. Germany put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and guided him back into the bustling, happy crowds roaming the Christkindlmarkt.

**The War on Stupidity – America**

America sighed with contentment as he stepped out of the candy shop; sucking on a homemade strawberry flavored candy cane and walked into the crowds making their way through the mall bustling with holiday shopping. Feeling fortified for the task he now dreaded, America walked across the large causeway over to the card shop to pick up a greeting card for Cuba to wish him a happy Independence Day, or “Triumph of the Revolution” Day or whatever he called it. Who had their national holiday on January first anyway? America groaned.

Wondering what card would possibly fit the occasion available this time of year, America browsed through the different sections of the card shop. He chuckled a bit when he walked through the sympathy section; would be funny to send Cuba one of those, but his boss may not appreciate it when he wanted to renew relations with the other country. America eventually settled on a blank card with a nice outdoorsy photograph on the front. He didn’t really expect a card sitting there that gave the salutation “Congratulations on the anniversary of kicking the US-backed puppet government out of your country!” He grabbed an envelope to go with it, muttering about his boss as he made his way up to the cashier’s counter.

He stood behind a woman buying boxes of green and red colored cards, rolls of wrapping paper, and humming “Green sleeves” under her breath as she waited for the cashier to finish ringing up her purchases. The cheerful girl handed back her credit card and receipt. “Happy Holidays.” She greeted the woman as she gave the customer her bagged items.

The woman’s head snapped up. “Excuse me? What did you just say?”

“Uhh,” the now flustered girl stammered, looking at the woman nervously. “I just wished you Hap-“

“The correct greeting is Merry Christmas young lady!” How dare you deny the real meaning of the season? Why it’s just un-American to not celebrate Christmas! Can you imagine what our founding fathers would have done?”

America’s smile faded with each idiotic word the woman muttered, but the fearful look on the cashier’s face made his annoyance drive him into action. “Well, for one thing, she would have avoided the five shilling fine.” He said flatly

The angry customer spun around and stared up at America, “What’s that?” She sputtered.

“Those founding fathers you so patriotically call upon to back you up actually banned Christmas in this country. They considered it too un-Christian and wouldn’t even allow certain food to be cooked because they were traditional foods served for Christmas dinner.” America’s eyes shone as he grinned at the rude customer’s flustered face.

The woman turned bright red as she ungraciously sucked in air to respond. “You … you talk like you were there!”

America’s grin grew brighter as he bent down to look the woman in the eye. “Maybe I was there?”

The woman snatched her bags away from the cashier and stomped out of the shop into the throng. Behind America, the other customers waiting in line cheered and clapped. He turned and acknowledged them, flashing them his sunny grin, and then turned back to the grateful cashier. “Happy Holidays sir!” She said.

“Happy Holidays,” America replied back, then gave the homemade candy cane his full attention again as he walked away.

**My Christmas Miracle - Prussia**

Hungary took the beigli out of the oven and set it on the table to cool. Austria was out doing the last of the Christmas shopping and bringing back the Christmas tree to decorate, and she wanted dinner preparations finished in time to help him decorate it. She sniffed over the poppy seed bread, enjoying the aroma before reaching over to turn the oven off and leave the kitchen to change into something more festive for the evening. As she was about to leave the kitchen, familiar footsteps tried to sneak up behind her. Her expression went from cheerful and happy to scowling in seconds as his arm went around her waist and he tried to sweep her up into a kiss. She pushed against him, sickened by his uninvited touch, glaring into his red eyes as he leered down at her.

“Aw Hungary how about a Christmas kiss? Spread some holiday cheer hmmm?” Prussia cajoled. Above his head, he held a small sprig of mistletoe.

Hungary’s eyes flashed with exasperation. “Let go of me, you oaf! What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be at Germany’s house spending Christmas with him?” She shoved him away impatiently.

“I don’t want to spend Christmas with West! Do you know what it’s like? He actually prints out an itinerary with a time schedule!” Prussia pulled the crumpled piece of paper from the breast pocket of his coat and began to read it. “8:00 pm to 8:59 pm – West decorates the tree. 9:00 pm – West rings bell, Prussia can enter and see the tree. 9:00 to 9:15 pm – singing of Christmas carols. 9:15 pm to 9:45 pm – Christmas dinner …” Prussia angrily waved the wrinkled piece of paper in her face before balling it up again and tossing it on the floor, where he stomped on it with his boot.

“That is not a Christmas celebration Hungary!” Where’s the magic? Where’s the mystery? Christmas is supposed to be the one night out of the year when miracles happen. Take some pity on me … please?” Prussia gave her big, sad, puppy dog eyes as he twirled the piece of mistletoe over his head. “Don’t you want to enjoy a Christmas miracle with me?”

Hungary looked into Prussia’s eyes, her hand grappling behind her for anything she could make contact with. Her eyes widened when she touched the handle of the familiar skillet; it wasn’t the first time it had been used for this purpose, and unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the last. She watched Prussia’s head dip lower, his eyes close, his lips pucker … she swung with all her might, the round pan of the skillet connecting with Prussia’s head. His eyes flew open with shock, and then fell back into his skull as he slipped down to the floor, curling into a fetal position; the mistletoe sprig laying a few inches away from his fingers.

“There’s your Christmas miracle.” Hungary snapped with a satisfied air. She stepped over him and stomped out of the kitchen to finish her Christmas preparations before Austria came home.

 

**The Importance of Christmas Traditions - Lithuania**

Lithuania straightened up and smiled at the finished dining table. The fine hay spread under the white tablecloth covering the table, the fir boughs and candles tastefully trimming the place settings and traditional Christmas dishes. He had spent the day tirelessly cleaning the house and cooking while listening to Poland complain.

“Liet, are you like, ever going to stop playing house drudge and actually celebrate Christmas?” Poland whined. He sat in a comfortable chair in front of the fireplace, wearing a garish pink top with appliquéd snowflakes splashed diagonally across the front. “I’m here to totally do the Merry Christmas thing and you’re wasting all our time cleaning. Let’s eat already so we can open presents!”

“The house has to be clean, it’s the tradition.” Lithuania sighed. After all these years Poland should know that by now, shouldn’t he? Estonia and Latvia came from the kitchen carrying steaming dishes of food, the last of the traditional 12 foods served for Christmas dinner.

“That’s the last of it Lithuania,” Estonia said, pushing up his glasses and smiling.

“I’m starved, let’s eat!” Latvia said enthusiastically. “Merry Christmas everyone.”

Lithuania put a plate with six Christmas wafers on the table. “We still have two more guests to arrive. We need to wait until they get here, and they’re coming from a long way.”

Latvia and Estonia exchanged looks. “But no one’s missing Lithuania, we’re all here,” Estonia said.

Poland slowly stood up, counting the plates on the table. “There are six plates set, and neither one has a candle lit on it … wait, get out of the house … you totally didn’t invite … _HIM?_ ”

“Guys! It’s Christmas! And no one should be alone on Christmas.” The doorbell ringing suddenly interrupted them; everyone turned and looked at the front door, and at the tall figure casting a shadow in the window. “Not even him.”

Poland rolled his eyes and flopped angrily back down in the chair. “Oh sure Liet, I can like totally count, and there are six plates. That means he brought her with him. That’s the real reason you invited him here, admit it!” He crossed his arms and glared at his old friend.

Lithuania blushed and scratched the back of his head. “No one should be alone on Christmas.”

Latvia had already begun to shake.

 

**There Will Be Carols - Australia**

Australia carefully put the finishing touches on the Pavlova, adding slices of kiwi fruit, strawberries, and blueberries to the top of the baked meringue dessert. He smiled at the color the fruit added, and then put it in the fridge next to the chilling potato salad. He set the cold platter of prawns and crayfish on the table and added more ice to the esky full of cold beer in the courtyard. “Oi Dad! Where are you?”

“I’m in front of the bloody fan sweating me bloody balls off son,” England grumbled, sitting in the lounge room trying not to be miserable. “Why did I let you talk me into spending Christmas with you?”

“Because Christmas is about family?” Australia answered, seasoning the lamb chops. “I got plenty of cold stubbies chillin’ in the esky in the courtyard, join me!”

“That requires me to move,” England muttered, but the promise of cold beverages gave him the momentum to leave the fan and head outside with the other nation. Australia cheerfully slapped the lamb chops on the grill, humming a tune and taking a long pull from his stubby of VB while watching the meat sizzle. “Help yourself, Dad, there’s a cold platter of prawns and crayfish too if you want to nibble before tea.”

“You’re barbequing our Christmas dinner, feeding me cold prawns and chilled beer in blistering heat, and tomorrow you want to go where and do what?”

“Surfing on Bondi Beach!” Australia grinned, turning over the lamb chops. “Everyone will be there, it’s the tradition.”

“Riiight.” England said, eyes coldly surveying the scene. “Pardon me, but where’s the roast bird, the pudding?”

“Sorry, Dad got fuck all for that. Have to be bloody insane to want that meal in this heat!” Australia finished his bottle of VB and reached into the esky for another. “ Now cheer up and help me drink this slab, they won’t drink themselves.”

England took the offered beer, enjoying something cold in his hand as he opened it. “Can we at least sing some carols? Can’t we do something that remotely resembles Christmas?”

“Oh yeah Dad, don’t worry! We’ll sing carols this evening under the stars. Everyone brings candles, it’s really beautiful and you’ll love it, I promise!”

England took a healthy drink from his cold beer and smiled. “Alright Son, but if I hear one more person call me ‘pommy’ …”


End file.
